Depending on who you talk to, RR looks just like Debra. Or, she looks just like me. It’s what we hoped for when we went down the donor list selecting for things like tooth size and shape and height of cheekbones.

It’s a small consolation for having to pay for what lots of folks get free. We looked at my features and chose a donor who reflected them almost exactly. The almost was even our choice. It was fun to fine-tune my own features in an I wish I longer lashes way. We even ended up with the same hair color (that one was luck).

Popsicle on face courtesy of grannie and, yes, we let her sleep in it. The dress and the popsicle.

Monday we took her to the US-Ghana game at a local theatre. The venue seats 1000 and it was full to capacity and then some (shh, don’t tell). I wasn’t sure how she’d do with the certain chanting, cheering and, as it turned out thunderous stamping and hollering. I certainly wouldn’t have been okay at 4. I am barely okay at 40.

At the half we distracted her with the iPad (in all, 45 minutes is a pretty solid attention span for a small person watching men bat around a ball without explanation) but she spent the last 10 minutes of the match inexplicably sobbing. I was certain this was proof that she got more than my hair. When we finally got to the car, she took a deep breath and said, “Mama, I’m crying because I couldn’t hear the dolphin (on the iPad) when my new friends got so happy.”

Her new friends had leapt to their feet, Debra and I included, when a late goal put the US ahead. The noise was tremendous and I was sure the new friends had terrified my child for life. But, no. We’ve heard so much about her new friends, all 1000 of them, that I almost feel bad for leaving her at home for the next US match on Sunday. Almost.